


Sweet Ruin

by therestlessbrook



Series: sweet [8]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:31:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestlessbrook/pseuds/therestlessbrook
Summary: The remnants of the Life Foundation return to take Venom’s mate and unborn child.





	1. Chapter 1

You should have known the Life Foundation wouldn’t end with Drake.

Companies aren’t a single person; they’re full of subordinates, of board members, of accountants and lab techs and security guards and—

People. They’re full of people. And people can be greedy bastards.

It happens when you come home after work. Your feet and lower back twinge with discomfort and you’ve been fighting a headache. You shuffle into the apartment building, ready to put your feet up and watch a few hours of Netflix.

“Aren’t pregnant women supposed to glow?” says a man from overhead. He is at work on a broken lamp in the apartment building’s entryway, halfway up a ladder. It’s Gregory, one of the better building managers.

“Aren’t lamps supposed to give off light?” you retort.

Gregory laughs, giving the bulb another twist. It comes on with a flicker. “There we go. You, on the other hand, look like you could do with a meal and a week’s worth of sleep.”

“Little guy won’t let me sleep that long,” you say, patting your stomach. “Or girl. We don’t know yet.”

“Well, at least get a full meal. My wife always swore by garlic bread when she was pregnant. She could devour it by the loaf.”

You give him one last smile and wave before striding into the elevator. You haven’t been sleeping well the last few weeks. Vivid dreams, needing to use the bathroom, and strange twinges in your hips and back have made sleeping more a chore than a pleasure. Maybe tonight will be different.

You unlock the apartment. It’s dark and empty, a note on the kitchen counter. Eddie’s familiar scrawl reads, _Will be home later tonight. Meeting a source in Oakland. Check the fridge. Love you._

You smile fondly at the post it. He must have come home earlier before heading out. You pull open the fridge and find several containers of takeout: fresh ramen and a slice of cheesecake. “Best boyfriend,” you murmur, taking the cheesecake.

You’re sliding a fork from the cupboard when you hear the noise. It’s a slight hiss, a exhalation that reminds you of letting air out of a tire. You cock your head, frowning a little. At first, you think it’s the fridge—but a quick check reassures you that it’s not acting up again. Then you glance about the kitchen. It’s not coming from anywhere you can see, so you follow the sound into the hallway.

It’s coming from some place lower down, and you see the air vent near your ankles. With a grimace, you squat down. Your ankles scream in protest, but if something’s caught in the vents, you should tell the manager.

There’s a small tube resting in the vent. Like someone pushed it through, and then you smell—

Chemicals. The scent climbs your nose, cold and sweet and numbing.

You surge to your feet, hand on the wall. A curse rises to your lips but you choke it down. The door. You need to get to the door.

You stride to the front door, peering through the peep hole first. Nobody’s out there, at least, nobody you can see. You twist the knob.

It won’t open.

This time, you do curse. Then you use the chain, locking the door even more firmly. You may not be able to get out, but at least no one can get in. You go into the bedroom and slam the door shut. You throw a blanket across the gap between door and the carpet, hoping it will block out the gas.

You rush to the window, pushing it open. The air outside smells of the city, of cars and people, but it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.

Your phone rests in your back pocket and you dig it out, fumbling for the last called number. Your heartbeat is racing, fear rising in the back of your throat.

Finally, Eddie picks up. “Hey, what’s—”

“Someone’s piping gas into the apartment,” you say. “I can’t get out—the door’s jammed.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence; you hear his sharp intake of breath and when he speaks again, his voice is several octaves lower. “What does it smell like?”

“I—I don’t know.” You force yourself to slow down, to think. “A little sweet. Chemicals. I’ve opened a window, but I’m not sure how long—”

“We’re on our way.” You hear the shift, the rumble as Venom takes control. You lean on the window, dizzy with relief—and then you realize, you’re just _dizzy_. You’re not sure how much of that gas you inhaled. Your hand goes to your belly, cupping the rounded swell. It’s not only you that you have to worry about.

“Talk to us, sweetling.” Venom’s voice comes through the phone. The gravel and smoke sound of their voice makes you relax, just a little. “What’s happening?”

A noise at the front door makes you flinch; someone is pounding on the frame. “Someone’s at the door.” Dread settles low in your belly, twisting into a tight knot.

“Don’t open it,” Venom snarls.

“I won’t.” You blink several times; every time, it feels like more work to open your eyes. “I feel wrong.” The words come out slow and mangled, as if you’ve had too much to drink. “Heavy and—wrong.” Your fingers have gone numb.

A low growl emanates from the phone. Venom will be rushing here, leaping building to building, but you’re not sure it’s fast enough. The world sways and when you blink this time, the phone slips away. It thuds to the floor. You stare down at the screen, then to to squat to pick it up. Everything is thick and fuzzy and—

You’re on your side. The carpet presses to your cheek and you gaze at the far bedroom wall.

The phone is just out of reach. A tinny voice buzzes from the speaker. 

_—What happened? Talk to us—_

You try to reach for it, but your arm won’t respond.

You blink and the world slides away for a few moments. When you reopen your eyes, you see shoes. Shoes that don’t belong to your boyfriend; these are leather, expensive and attached to a man wearing a suit. He is a pale blonde, smiling down at you as if you’re a twenty dollar bill he found lying on the street.

“Get her up.” The words come to you as if from underwater. “I want to be gone before the creature shows up.”

There are others with him; they wear masks to filter the air, and several men look as though they might have been purchased in a catalog for burly bodyguards.

Your fallen phone remains on the ground. The man’s shoe comes down on it and glass crunches. It’s the last thing you see before you close your eyes and can’t reopen them.

* * *

When you awaken, you’re in a hospital.

No, that’s not quite right. You’re in a place meant to _look_ like a hospital. But no hospital would keep its patients handcuffed to the bed.

The cuff is plastic and light, looped around your left wrist. It’s the same arm that they slipped an IV into, and you grimace and look away. Your right hand goes to your belly. Everything feels fine, but you can’t be sure. Your heartbeat picks up, and you hear a beep from a nearby monitor.

“Where am I?” you croak. Your throat is dry, the words barely understandable. But the man sitting in the chair beside you sits up, placing a book in his lap. It’s the blonde man, the one you saw in your apartment. He smiles down at you.

“Here,” he says, and holds out a damn sippy cup. But you’re too thirsty to be prideful. You take it with your unrestrained arm, taking a swig from the straw. When you can speak, you say, “You kidnapped me.”

“No,” he replies. “We retrieved stolen property.”

“People are not—”

“No,” he says. “People are not property. But that thing that impregnated you is not a person.”

That makes you go silent.

They know. This man and whoever works for him. They know about Venom and Eddie. And there’s only one person that would know.

“The Life Foundation is gone,” you say. The cup shakes in your hand.

“Companies don’t just die with their CEO,” he says, a thin smile on his mouth. “And yes, we’re still around. We want our property. But right now, we’ll settle for whatever is living inside you.”

The cup drops to the floor as you curl one arm protectively around your stomach. “You touch me,” you snarl, “and you won’t have to wait for Venom to rip your throat out. I’ll do it myself.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich. “No, no. You misunderstand. Whatever you’re carrying—it’s obviously compatible with you. Which is why we would like to study it. The compatibility problem still eludes us, when it came to the symbiotes. We wish to study the hybrid version, to see if we could replicate its genetic structure.” He gives you a benevolent look. “You will not be harmed. We aren’t monsters.” He rises to his feet.

“You can’t hold me here,” you snap.

“Oh, I believe we can. More than that, I believe we should.” He leans over your monitor. “You can imagine that one call to the cops or the FBI would free you, but let’s be honest. You would vanish into the depths of the CDC never to emerge. You’ve been impregnated by something inhuman. They would have to be sure whatever was born posed no threat to the world.”

You can’t argue with that. You have a feeling he’s right.

“You’ll be well treated,” he says. “But you won’t be allowed to leave. And we’ll run a few tests—starting with an ultrasound.” He gestures at the door, where you see several men and women in white coats waiting. “I’ll check in, in a week or two. I have business elsewhere.”

You watch him go, fury simmering in your chest.

* * *

A week goes by.

You settle into a routine—you try to sleep when the lights are dimmed, and in the morning, you’re walked through an arboretum with a nurse and a security guard. Then there’s a nutritionally approved breakfast, and the tests begin. They take a few vials of blood. They take your blood pressure, your temperature, your weight. They ask you how you’re feeling. And all of it is conducted under the mask of helpfulness—when you know it’s simply for their own research. They want to know if your child is human. And they’ll try to take your child.

The anger that swells within you is startling in its intensity. They won’t have your child. You won’t let them.

So you plan and you wait. You stay calm and you do what the doctors tell you.

You hate the waiting. With every day that passes, you wonder how Eddie is doing. He and Venom must be frantic—they would have come home to find the apartment empty, the cheesecake still on the counter, and your phone broken on the carpet. You wonder if they heard any of the kidnapping before the phone was shattered.

You don’t know where you’ve been taken. There’s a window, but the landscape outside is unfamiliar. You’re pretty sure you’re still in the city, but that’s all you can tell.

By the fifth day, the nurses seem satisfied that you won’t try to run; they remove the plastic cuff. You rub at your wrist, and thank them. The words burn in your mouth, but you force yourself to say them. You have to pretend to be meek and cowed. Not for yourself—but for your child. They’re depending on you to find a way out of here. You won’t let them be a lab rat for the Life Foundation.

There’s a nurse who seems younger than the others. She’s more careless, a little impatient. You see her playing a game on her phone when you have your blood drawn. She clicks her tongue impatiently against her teeth when you slow your pace on one of your walks, and you realize you could use this to your advantage.

The next time it’s her shift, you ask her to help you to the bathroom. “My lower back has been acting up,” you say. “Just—give me your arm.”

What she gives you is a flat, unamused look.

“Do you want your bosses to know that you’re not helping their most valuable asset?” you say, and you know you have her. She grimaces, then wraps an arm around your waist. You feign weakness, stumbling a little on your way to the bathroom. She makes an irritated sound, but you ignore her. Once you’ve used the toilet and returned to your bed, you give her a small smile. “Thanks. Listen, could you get me a cup of tea or something?”

She flicks you a glare, then strides from the room.

And her phone slides out of your sleeve. You’re just glad she didn’t feel you as you slipped it from her pocket.

You wait a few heartbeats for her footsteps to fade, then you dial Eddie’s number. You’re not sure he’ll pick up; this is a strange phone number.

The phone rings twice and then a strained voice says, “What?” He sounds snappish and exhausted, and his voice is the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“Eddie,” you say. “It’s me.”

“Oh, God.” You can almost hear him pressing a hand to his mouth. “You’re okay. Tell me you’re okay.”

“It’s the Life Foundation,” you say. “They want the baby. Something about being genetically compatible with more humans—I don’t know.” You force your voice to remain calm, but you quaver just a little. “Just—come and get me?”

“Where are you?” He sounds frustrated and lost. “We’ve been searching for days—we lost your scent once you crossed the bay bridge.”

“I don’t know.” You shuffle to the window, trying to see through the tinted glass. “I see—there’s what looks like a private air field. A few small planes. There’s a highway—I think it’s heading south. I think I can see trees, beyond that. Fuck, I know that’s not helpful.”

“I have a list of the Life Foundation’s holdings, including properties. I’ll see which ones match that description.” You can hear his ragged breath, and you imagine him sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. It sends such a wave of yearning for home through you that you close your eyes, trying to block out the sights and smells of the lab.

“Are you all right?” His voice is a little muffled, as if he’s tucked the phone between shoulder and chin.

You take a breath. If you’re being honest, you are nowhere near all right. But Eddie’s voice is cracking at the edges, and so you say, “I’m fine. They haven’t hurt me—besides the drugging and some needles.”

You hear him breathing, and it sounds as if he’s trying to do that meditative breath thing the podcasts go on about. You smile at that.

The rattling sound of a cart rolling by your door has you straightening, heart hammering. You can’t be found like this—what if they realize? What if they move you?

“Eddie, I’ve got to go.”

The voice in your ear shifts, deepening to a familiar rumble. You realize that Eddie must have been holding Venom back so that he could work on his laptop. But now, when you’re moments away from hanging up, Venom says, “We’ll come for you.”

Your throat is painfully tight when you say, “I know.”

You end the call. Then you delete the call’s information, and leave the phone beside the toilet. Perhaps the nurse will think she dropped it herself. You lay in your bed, gazing at the ceiling, your heartbeat too quick.

* * *

That night, you awaken to the sound of shouts.

You sit up, throwing your blankets aside. You feel too bare, too vulnerable like this. You have no shoes, no weapon, and you wish you were wearing something that actually covered your legs.

You stand, then go to the door. You hear footsteps thunder by—and glimpse three security guards with automatic rifles. Your heart jumps into your throat. Part of you wants to try and pull the door open, to find the source of the chaos, but that wouldn’t be smart. Instead, you wrap a blanket around your fist before slamming it through the door’s glass window.

You toss the blanket into the hallway. It has your scent all over it—and if Venom is here, they’ll find it.

Then you return to the bed and wait.

You hear the sound of the attack like a distant nightmare—guns firing, screams, and the roar of some inhuman creature. A shudder goes through you. You’ve heard Venom angry before, but this is something far beyond mere anger. Alarms begin to go off, lights flashing and noise ringing in your ears. Something crashes, and the building shakes.

And then everything goes quiet.

The door is torn open. A hulking black figure glides through the broken frame, one clawed hand still holding your discarded blanket. Then they turn and see you sitting on the bed. “Hey, big guy,” you say, smiling.

They cross the room in two strides and then you’re in their arms, tucked close against them.

It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You slump against them, too relieved for words.

Venom is sniffing you, brushing against your hairline, down your neck. “You’re here,” they say, and it sounds as if they’re reassuring themselves.

To your horror, a sob rises in your chest. You haven’t cried this whole time, but now you can finally allow yourself the luxury of tears. Tendrils run over you, checking for injury. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “No. I just—can you please get me out of here? I don’t think I can stand another moment in this place.”

“With pleasure,” they rumble, picking you up easily. You curl around their neck, fingers digging in but they don’t seem to mind. Keeping one arm carefully around you, they use the other to pry the window free of its hinges. They hold you close as they leap into open air.

You half-expect Venom to take you back to the apartment. Or perhaps some place to hide out—an empty warehouse or office building. But rather, they run along the coastline, keeping out of sight of Highway One. The fresh air tastes good in your mouth, and you revel in the sense of freedom. You head south, until the lights of the city are out of sight and the gentle rocking of their gait has lulled you into a half-sleep. You’re exhausted; you couldn’t truly sleep in the lab. This is the first time you’ve felt utterly safe in days.

When they come to a halt, you open your eyes and look around. You’re on a beach, and Venom walks up a long flight of wooden stairs toward a house. It looks like someone’s vacation home. “Where are we?”

“Big Sur,” Venom answers. “Dan’s family owns this place. He offered it to us for as long as we need it.”

You blink several times, trying to clear the sleep from your eyes. You like Dan—and Anne, for that matter. Both of them have been nothing but decent since you met them. But you never thought Eddie would involve them in this. “You went to Dan for help?”

“We found the canisters used to poison you.” A growl rumbles through Venom. “Eddie wished to know if the gases could harm a baby. Dan had those answers—and Anne used her old contacts after you called, trying to help us locate you.” _Oh._ You’re not sure if this warrants a thank-you card or a heartfelt hug, but either way, you’re getting those two a _really_ good bottle of wine.

“Okay, can you put me down?” You squirm a little. “I kind of need to pee.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation. Venom’s features do not lend themselves well to fear, but you see it in their face. “Hun,” you say, touching their cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Venom leans in close, tongue laving across the bare skin of your shoulder and neck. It doesn’t have the intent of a sexual gesture; rather, it feels like comfort. “You were gone. We came back home and you were gone.” A breath stirs your hair. “They took our mate, our spawn, and we could not stop them.”

“Hey,” you say, give them a little squeeze. “You came for me when it counted.”

“Only because you were too clever to be caged.” Their tendrils slip away, setting you gently on your feet. “We will do a quick patrol and return. Don’t leave the house.”

You nod, and watch them vanish through the door.

The beach house lives up to its name: strings of sea shells decorating the walls, hardwood floors with a few scratchy rugs, and a tiki bar. You find the bathroom down the hall and use it with relief. A glance into the mirror makes you shudder. You look like a haunted escapee from some hospital; you need to get rid of the gown and make take a shower or five. But not tonight, when you feel like you could sleep on your feet.

Eddie is waiting for you in the kitchen.

He looks terrible. His eyes are dark at the edges, hair unwashed, and there’s several days worth of stubble on his jaw. Without a word, you step into the circle of his arms and he pulls you tightly against him. Well, as tightly as he can with your rounded belly between you both. “I’m so sorry,” he says, after a few seconds have passed.

“Hey.” You shake your head. “None of that. I already told Venom to knock off the self-blame thing. You both saved me, so—”

“You wouldn’t have needed saving if you weren’t with me.” He pulls back enough to rest a hand lightly on your stomach. “If you were with anyone else, this wouldn’t have happened.”

You shake your head. “If I were with anyone else—I wouldn’t even be pregnant because you’re the only person I trust enough to want a family with.”

That seems to snap him out of his thoughts.

“I went into this knowing what could happen,” you say. “And I’d do it again.”

That makes him smile. Then any amusement slips away. He closes his eyes, drags a breath through his clenched teeth. “We killed everyone at that lab. But I know this won’t be the end of things. There’ll be others, and—”

“We’ll deal with them.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he rests his head against your shoulder. He shakes for a moment, a shudder of relief and dread seemingly mixed together, and then he tugs you down the hall, guiding you toward the bedroom.

The room is dark and smells of sea salt and fresh linens. Eddie helps you out of the hospital garb, pulling a long t-shirt over you. It’s one of his, and the cotton is worn and familiar. When you get into the bed, the cool sheets feel good against your bare legs. Eddie takes a moment to pull off his shoes before getting in beside you. Without a word, the symbiote extends from his arms and shoulders. They don’t fully manifest around Eddie’s body, rather, long black tendrils wrap around you both, pulling you near. You stroke Eddie’s chest, the places where he and Venom meld together, and murmur, “I did learn one thing.”

Eddie looks down at you. You can sense Venom’s attention, as well.

“It’s a boy,” you say. “They did an ultrasound, and I found out.”

Eddie draws in a sharp breath. “A boy.”

“Yeah.” You smile, just a little.

One of Venom’s limbs strokes across your stomach and you hear the rumble of their voice when they say, “Our spawn.”

You sigh. “Big guy, you need to call him something else.”

“Why?”

“Because ‘spawn’ doesn’t carry the best connotations.”

A moment of thought. “Offspring?”

“Nope.”

“Seed.”

“Even worse.”

“Progeniture.”

“Now you’re just pulling words out of Eddie’s head.”

You can feel Eddie shaking with silent laughter and you let out a snort of your own. “Tomorrow,” Eddie murmurs, “we’ll start thinking of names.”

Closing your eyes, you relax against them both. “Yeah,” you say. “We will.”


	2. Chapter 2

They get the call on the way to an interview.

The phone buzzes in Eddie’s pocket. He pulls his bike off the road, the familiar ringtone telling him exactly who’s calling. _Sweetling_. It’s Venom that echoes through Eddie’s head—and it sounds like a purr.

Eddie smiles, just a little. He never thought he’d have this: two people he cares for, and they care for him, as well. Venom is a constant presence, all energy and excitement, and intoxicating power. And you’re the counterbalance, a warmth and strength that Eddie has learned to depend upon. When he sees you’re calling, he picks up without hesitation. “Hey, what’s—”

“Someone’s piping gas into the apartment,” you say. “I can’t get out—the door’s jammed.”

For a moment, the words don’t truly register. And then Eddie’s stomach plummets—and Venom roars to the surface of his skin, pressing at the edges of his mind. Eddie forces them back, trying to regain a sense of calm. Calm. He has to be calm about this. “What does it smell like?”

“I—I don’t know.” A shaky breath. “A little sweet. Chemicals. I’ve opened a window, but I’m not sure how long—” Your voice quavers, and that is the last straw for Venom. They surge to the surface, covering Eddie’s body. A black tendril wraps around the phone, securing it in place before they leap into the air. Wind rushes past them as they race through the city. “We’re on our way.”

Internally, Venom is snarling with fury. _Intruders in our home. We are going to kill them._

 _Whoever did this probably meant the gas for us,_ Eddie replies silently. _The dose will be for a man twice her size, and not—_

He can’t finish that thought, not even to himself. But Venom picks up on it. _Sweetling._ The images that swirl to the forefront of their mind hit Eddie hard: you beside them, so much smaller than they are. Venom’s paces picks up, until they’re little more than a black blur.

The phone has been quiet too long and Venom says, “Talk to us, sweetling. What’s happening?”

Your voice has a slur to it, and it’s a little unfamiliar. They’ve only seen you truly drunk twice—but this is what it sounded like. “Someone’s at the door.”

 _Fuck._ Eddie isn’t sure if that’s Venom’s thought or his.

“Don’t open it,” Venom growls.

“I won’t.” There’s a pause. “I feel wrong. Heavy and—wrong.”

 _They’re poisoning her_. Venom snarls, and the sound frightens several pigeons from a nearby building. They ignore the commotion, ducking through an alley and bounding across two lanes of traffic.

 _I know,_ Eddie thinks back, and he’s not so much angry as _terrified_. He doesn’t know what Venom will do if something happens to you. There’ll probably be a trail of corpses leading back to whomever concocted this scheme. And Eddie won’t even try to stop them.

There’s a sound, like a thud. Something soft and distant.

“What happened,” Venom says. “Talk to us.”

There’s no answer—at least not from you. Eddie’s heartbeat feels like a steady tone, the pulse ripping through them both. They hear the distant sound of footsteps, and then an unfamiliar voice.

“Get her up. I want to be gone before the creature shows up.”

Conscious thought flees before the wave of utter fury that rolls through them. Venom’s claws rake into a concrete building as they throw themselves into the air, leaping from building to building. They’re pushing themselves to the limit, and Eddie can feel the strain in his own body. On any other day, he would have gently nudged the symbiote, reminded them that they’ll damage him if they push too hard. But today—he remains silent.

They have to get home. They have to get home _now_.

They don’t smash into the apartment, although Venom wants to. Rather, they yank open a window and rush through it.

The air smells like sweet chemicals. Venom goes straight for the bedroom. There’s a blanket on the floor, a cracked window, and a smashed cell phone. Venom reaches for it. The background is a selfie: a picture of you and Eddie standing on the coast, windblown and smiling. Now, the picture is fragmented by broken glass and flickering gray at the edges.

Still holding the phone, Venom prowls into the kitchen. There’s the slice of cheesecake warming on the counter, untouched but for a single bite.

The door is broken. Not in an obvious way—the intruders merely punched out the locks. The door will need to be replaced.

It’s Eddie’s thoughts going over those details, because Venom’s are a chant of, _Gone. Gone. Gone_.

_I know._

_They came for her._

They whirl around, looking for something, anything.

 _Let me have control_ , Eddie thinks.

_We need to get her back._

_We will._ It’s Eddie who sounds more certain, because if there’s anything he knows, it’s how to track people who don’t want to be found. _Trust me, love. We’ll find her._ Venom retreats, black opalescence gliding across his skin, and then Eddie stands in the apartment.

There’s only one group of people that would know enough to come for you. And Eddie knows who he has to call, even if the thought leaves him cold. He dials an old number, and waits for the familiar voice before he says, “Anne? Sorry, but I need your help.”

* * *

When they find you at the lab, there is blood under their claws and gristle between their teeth. The fight through the building is swift and messy and unsatisfying. They can’t even take real enjoyment in the killing, not without knowing you’re safe. They rush down one hall, and the next, until a familiar scent hits them.

There’s a blanket resting in the hallway. It must have come through the small, shattered window on one of the laboratory doors. Venom breaks it open with a single slash of claw.

You’re sitting on the bed, legs curled beneath you. And for the first time in a week, Venom feels like they can breathe. They’re beside you in a moment, running blunted fingers across your limbs, trying to find any injury. You’re fine, but you smell like this place. Like antiseptic and plastic. Venom has the sudden, primal urge to clean the scent of this place from you, and Eddie thinks, _Not now. We need to get out of here._

So they take you from the lab and to the beach house that Dan showed them. It’s not the best safe house—too many windows and not enough locks—but it’s a place no one will think to look for them. When Venom finally puts you down, they’re reluctant.

You look brittle—shadowed eyes and wrists that seem a little too thin. _Hasn’t been eating well_ , Venom thinks, and Eddie has to quell the sudden urge to hunt, to kill, to bring the carcass of something fresh here.

_She won’t appreciate that._

A silent grumble, but it feels like acknowledgement.

 _Patrol the area_ , Eddie thinks. _Make sure no one has followed us here. Give her a little bit of space to recoup—you know she wants a few minutes by herself._

Even so, Venom balks at the idea of leaving. They’re angry—so angry that Eddie wonders if that anger will do something drastic like burn a hole through his stomach.

 _We could fix that_ , Venom says. And then a pause. _You are not angry. Why are you not angry?_

The truth is, Eddie isn’t so much angry as _guilty._

_Our fault. Fuck. If she weren’t with us—_

_She belongs with us._ Venom sounds far more sure than Eddie feels.

_Even if we can’t protect her?_

That silences Venom. It’s a low blow, and Eddie knows it.

 _She is ours._ This time the voice is quieter, but certain.

 _Then we’d better make sure nothing like this ever happens again_ , Eddie thinks, and feels the Venom’s agreement settle within him.


	3. Chapter 3

You sit on the beach, your feet buried in damp sand, a blanket across your shoulders.

Fog stretches across the horizon, creeping closer to the shore. Mist settles in your hair and salt spray into the cracks of your dry lips. When most people picture California beaches, they imagine the ones in the southern half of the state: sunny and blue, a pristine paradise bracketed by freeways and shopping. But the beaches of northern California are craggy, thick with fog and buffeted by cool breezes. They’re beautiful, but untamed.

You pull the blanket a little more tightly around yourself. It’s easier to think of beaches than what comes now. You stayed the night in a borrowed beach house, wearing unfamiliar clothes, having just been rescued from a secret corporate lab by your boyfriends.

Eddie hasn’t gone back to work; he’s claimed a leave of absence due to ‘the health issues’ of his pregnant girlfriend. Luckily, the publication is understanding of such things—and they know he’s too valuable to lose. They’ll let him take some time off.

As for your work, most of it can be done remotely—if you have your laptop and an internet connection. Too bad you have neither. It makes you feel twitchy and restless. You’ve probably got clients waiting on you, wondering why you haven’t replied to emails in a week.

You imagine trying to excuse your absence. _Sorry, got kidnapped by the Life Foundation because they want to experiment on my unborn child; it’s possible he might have inherited some genes from my boyfriend’s symbiote._

You hear the shuffle of feet and glance over your shoulder. Eddie is wearing sweatpants that are a little too long for him; they must be Dan’s. He’s rolled them up at the ankles, and he’s holding two mugs of coffee. He hands one to you before settling down. 

“I know you’re not supposed to have too much caffeine,” he says, “but I think this morning warrants a cup.” His warm hand settles on your back, drawing you close. You go willingly, resting your head against his shoulder. The mug feels good against your cold fingers.

For a few minutes, neither of you say a word. There are decisions to be made, decisions that you don’t want to think about.

“Listen,” says Eddie. “I—I’m going to say something I know you’re not going to like.”

You let out a breath. “You want me to stay here. Probably while you and Venom return to the city and put together a story on the Life Foundation, revealing to the world that they haven’t reformed like they said they have. You want to discredit them, cut them off from funding, and then release that info to the world so other journalists will pick up where you leave off.”

There’s a moment of stunned quiet. “I know you, hun,” you say, smiling. “You’re not going to the cops. That would require telling them about Venom, about me, about…” You touch your rounded belly. “Him.”

“Yeah,” says Eddie quietly.

“But you don’t want to leave me alone,” you say.

“Fuck.” His arm tightens around you. “Neither of us want you out of our sight. I know that sounds paranoid, but the last week…” You feel a shudder roll through him. “I don’t think we could go through that again.”

You can imagine it: Eddie using his connections and knowledge to scour the city for any sign of you; Venom enraged and looking to vent that fury; both of them snarling at one another, only ceasing when that anger collapses into loss and pain, when exhaustion forces them to rest, symbiote and human wrapped tightly around one another, both fearful of losing the other person they care for. The thought makes you ache with sympathy.

“Do you want to go back to the apartment?” he asks. “I’d understand if you didn’t. We can find a different place.”

You snort. Trying to find housing in the city is like panning for gold—the odds of finding anything in your price range is laughable. You only got your current apartment because the former lease holder was a co-worker of Eddie’s.

“We don’t have to live in the city,” says Eddie, correctly reading your expression. “We could move. Find a house a little farther out—we could commute, easily.”

“Because Venom running into the same office building every day wouldn’t draw attention,” you say, with a wry smile.

“I was thinking my motorcycle, actually,” replies Eddie. His fingers rub slow circles on your back and it feels nice. “The point is, we have options. And after what just happened…”

He doesn’t want you to live anywhere you’re not comfortable—and he’d willingly upend his life to keep you safe. This is one of the reasons you love him so much. “We should stay at the apartment for now,” you say. “We know the doctors in the area, and I want to keep close to a hospital until this little guy is born.” You shiver. “But now that we know the Life Foundation is still out there… Eddie, they wanted our child.”

His jaw clenches. “Yeah.”

“I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to be safe,” you say, your throat going a little tight. “What if they come for him after he’s born? When I’m asleep or—”

“If you think Vee’s going to leave any child of ours unprotected…” Eddie says.

“But you both can’t be around all the time.”

Venom manifests at that moment, their head extending out of Eddie’s shoulder. The first time you saw it happen, it was disconcerting but now—now it feels normal. Venom’s forehead presses against your shoulder, and your hand rises to stroke their cheek. “Hey, big guy.”

“If anyone threatens our offspring, we’ll rip them apart,” they say. “Trust us.”

“Only you could make threats of violence sound sweet.” You let out a breath. “Fine. Fine. You go do your thing—but I’m going to need a laptop. And the wifi password. I have my own job, and sure it’s not as glamorous, but I’ve probably got clients emailing me.”

“We can grab anything you want from the apartment,” Eddie says. “We’ll just have a few errands to run on the way.” His eyes search your face. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”

“No one can trace us to this place, right?” you ask.

“Not right away, at least. I mean, eventually they may widen their search, but the Life Foundation’s first impulse won’t be to track the properties of my ex-girlfriend’s current boyfriend’s family’s beach house.” He frowns. “Did I say that right? That didn’t sound right.”

You laugh, giving his hand a little squeeze. “All right.”

* * *

The beach house is pretty well stocked for visitors. There’s packaged food in the cupboards, clean linens in the closet, and a wifi router that just needs to be plugged in. Clothes are another matter—all you were wearing when Venom rescued you was a hospital gown, and you want to set that on fire. You settle for shoving it in the dirty laundry hamper. Eddie gives you a shirt of his, and it’s barely long enough to be decent. You find a few random clothes in a closet—and you pull a pair of cargo pants that must belong to one of Dan’s female relatives. 

The unfamiliarity of the place and the clothes is just anther thing that puts you on edge. 

Eddie leaves around ten. He shows you where the keys are, tells you to keep the doors locked, and looks as if he’d rather simply let Venom have his body, pull you close, and run until there’s a couple thousand miles between you and the city. But both of you know that escape won’t be so simple. You can’t outrun this—and more than that, you don’t want to. You’ve made a life here; you shouldn’t have to run.

“I’ll be back tonight,” he says, pulling you into a hug. He gives your stomach a little pat. “You hang on until then, okay?”

“You talking to me or the kid?” you ask, amused.

“Both,” he replies, dropping a kiss against your cheek.

He gives you one last long look, expression torn. Then he nods, Venom flickering along his skin, until the symbiote stands before you. They lean down, brushing their cheek across yours. It’s one of those gestures that used to startle you, but now you understand it’s the closest they can come to a gentle farewell. “Eat something, sweetling. You look as though you need it.”

“I will, big guy.” You step back, nodding. “You do what you do best.”

Their grin unfurls, and then Venom leaps into the air, claws finding purchase in the rocky seaside cliffs. They pull themselves up and over, and then they’re gone. Off to the Life Foundation lab first. They’ll look for whatever data hasn’t been destroyed before heading home to work on Eddie’s article. Tonight, they’ll return with clothes, your laptop, and fresh fruit. That’s the one thing the beach house doesn’t have.

You return to the house, locking the deadbolt behind you. Your stomach gives a little lurch and you place your hand on your belly. “Just the two of us,” you say.

You spend most of the day situating yourself in the beach house—looking through the cupboards, wiping dust from the cups and silverware, sweeping sand off the floors, and putting new sheets on the bed. Once you’re satisfied, you sit down in one of the wooden rocking chairs. There’s an enclosed porch made to overlook the waves and you sit there, hand absentmindedly playing across your belly as you watch the ocean. 

Your mind feels as if you can’t turn it off—you’re awash in memories of the lab, plans to avoid returning to such a place ever again, wondering if perhaps you did go on the run, how you’d manage to find a hospital to give birth, or perhaps you don’t need a hospital at all and—

You close your eyes, leaning your head against the chair’s pillowed back. You need to stop thinking, just for a little while, so you concentrate on the sound of the ocean waves.

When you open your eyes, the world is shadowed by evening. You sit up, rubbing at a twinge in your neck. “We took a rather long nap,” you say, hand still on your stomach. “And here I thought that was your department.” You rise from the chair, stretching. “Come on, let’s see if your dads are home yet.”

Eddie isn’t back—the beach house is quiet but for your own footsteps. You go to the kitchen, pouring fresh water into the kettle and flicking it on. There’s some packets of hot chocolate in the cupboard and maybe you can have a cup ready for when they return. And one of yourself, of course.

The sound of the front door opening has your shoulders relaxing. Good, they made it back safely. “Hey,” you call, ripping open a hot chocolate packet. 

You hear the creak of the floorboards as you reach into the cupboard for a mug. “Good, you’re back,” you say, turning. “How was—”

But it’s not Eddie standing in the doorway.

It’s a man with pale blond hair.

Your heart stutters, then picks up too quickly. Your hand finds the countertop and you brace yourself.

All of the fear of the last week comes back in a rush. The last time you saw this man, you were handcuffed to a bed.

“How,” you start to stay, then falter. 

“Did we find you?” The man gives you a thin little smile. “I’m disappointed in you, to be honest. Did you really not think we’d track our investments?”

Shit. Shit—they probably had a tracker hidden in the hospital gown. Or even beneath your skin. Your fingers clench as you resist the urge to check your arms. You’ll figure it out later, once you’re safe.

You chance a look at the windows; they’re opaque in the darkness. The man sees where your glance goes, and he shakes his head. “You’re looking for the creature to come and save you? Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s not coming.”

A chill starts at your fingertips and creeps upward. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t think we planned for this?” he replies. “We knew the symbiote would return to the labs. So we took a few precautions.”

The cold reaches your heart, and suddenly you feel sick. “What did you do to Venom?”

“A few loudspeakers,” the man says calmly. “It’s amazing how susceptible the creature is to sound, considering its resistance to most physical forms of attack.”

You bite down on your lip, holding back a curse. _Venom. Eddie._ You should have known that the Life Foundation would know how to fight back. Venom went back to that place for you and—and now you aren’t sure if they’re even alive.

He moves toward you, but you raise a hand. “Don’t you dare.”

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” he says. “We won’t even hurt your child, if you’re going to call it that.”

“What else would you call it?” you say.

“How about ‘unnatural?’” The man’s mouth twists in disgust. “The offspring of something we can barely begin to understand.”

His words hurt, but not the way he means them—it was only a few hours ago that you were chastening Venom for affectionately referring to your child as ‘offspring.’ The memory aches like a fresh bruise.

“How you ever managed to not be sick long enough for that monster to touch you,” the man continues. “I’ll never understand.” 

Anger surges to life within you, burning the fear away. Things are different this time: you’re no longer handcuffed, helpless and afraid. You’re furious, and you have so much to protect.

’That so-called  _monster_ ,” you say, voice shaking, “has been far kinder and more gentle with me than most human men. And Eddie loves Venom, just like I do. We’re together—all of us. This child is _ours._ And I’ll be damned before I let you hurt my family.”

The man steps forward, plastic zip-ties in his hand.

You fumble behind you for the boiling kettle. It’s a nice model—glass, rather than plastic. Your fingers clench on the handle, waiting, and when when the man is close enough to touch, you smash it as hard as you can across his head. He manages to get his arm up, but the glass cracks and splinters, steaming water spilling across him.

He lets out a howl of pain and fury, but you’re already running, pushing past him for the door. You need to get out.

The door’s handle is broken and you run through it, onto the porch. You clamor down the stairs, and onto the beach, take off at a dead sprint. That man won’t be alone, but they won’t have vans too close; you would have heard them drive up. Your bare feet slam into the damp sand, and the sound of the rushing waves drowns out your own harsh breaths.

You glance behind you and see movement. The blond man is racing out of the house, his hand red with blisters. He’s shouting at someone, and another man, this one holding a gun, follows him. They won’t shoot you—you know that much. They can’t risk hurting your child, not if they want to use it.

So you run, into the cold fog and toward the surf. The sound of the waves will cover your pants, and perhaps you can get away. An ache opens up behind your ribs and you press your hand to your swollen stomach. You can’t run too far, not like this.

But if you can get to the next beach house, if you can call the police… you might have a chance.

A large, craggy rock juts up from the sand. You jog toward it. Maybe if you can find a place to hide, you won’t need to run. Those men will pass by, and you can find a phone. You creep around the rock, pressing yourself low to the sandy ground. Sea salt catches in the cracks of your lips, and wind whips at your shirt. Your bare feet are numb with cold. You can hear them catching up, and your heart pounds. You angle yourself so that they won’t see you.

Please let them not see you. Your arms go around your belly, and your eyes squeeze shut.

You hear someone run past and you wait. Agonizing seconds crawl by, and you force yourself to remain still. You need to be sure—

Fingers snag at your shirt. You stumble, half-falling into the sand. Your knees take the impact, and you whirl around, trying to throw sand into the blonde man’s eyes.

He snarls in pain, shoving you to the ground.

The sand softens the fall, but you still curl protectively around your stomach. “Fucking bitch,” the man snaps. “Get her. We’ll drag her back if you need to—”

But the man never finishes his sentence. A dark shadow rushes from the fog and the night, and slams into him. You look away, but the sounds are those of snapping bones, sinew tearing apart, and then a wet sound. Blood sprays the sand, and then the noises go silent.

The other man shouts a curse and raises a handgun, but he’s not fast enough.

Venom’s teeth sink into his shoulder, shaking the man like a dog with a rabbit. The man chokes out a cry, but then Venom flings him into the ocean. He falls, too limp, and vanishes into the water.

For a heartbeat, Venom stands there, chest rising and falling, and then they’re beside you, claws blunting so they don’t rake as they touch you. They touch your face, down your neck, trailing across your stomach—checking for injuries, you realize.

“I’m okay,” you gasp. “Vee, I’m fine.”

They make a sound that is half-growl, half-whine, and then you’re pulled close, arms and tendrils and their warmth is all around you. You can feel the rise and fall of their chest as they breathe, and it settles the last of your panic.

“You’re alive,” you say, resting your head against their shoulder.

Venom makes a rough sound. “Hurt us. That’s why we didn’t arrive sooner.”

For several moments, you simply hold onto them. Their edges are shakier than you like, and you half-wish that Vee hadn’t simply thrown that second man into the ocean. They could probably use the food. And you don’t care if that thought makes you a terrible person—these people were here to _kidnap_ you.

“You going to be all right?” you say quietly. You know your voice isn’t loud enough to hurt them, but you don’t want to even risk it.

Venom pulls back. “Yes. Just need… rest.” They shudder and then the black edges ripple and flow inward, until it’s Eddie kneeling beside you on the sand. He looks hungover—pale and a little wobbly, and like he might be sick on the sand.

The last of your fear drains away. Eddie and Venom are _yours_ , and you’ll keep them safe. No matter the cost. Is this how they feel all the time? You give a small shake of your head. Revelations later—practical things now.

“Hey,” you say, touching his unshaven cheek. He leans into the contact, eyes half-lidded. “Come on, let’s get back to the beach house. I mean—if it’s safe.”

Eddie rises, a little unsteady. “It better be, because I don’t know how much good we’ll be for a while.”

Fuck. He and Venom must have pushed themselves to the brink to get here.

“There were five in a van,” he continues. “Three more in a truck. The two out here. We took one of the radios—it’s gone silent. Think we got all of them.” His eyes sweep over you. “Shit. It was too close.”

“We’re safe,” you say. “The blond one—he was in charge. With him gone…”

You pull his arm around your shoulders, partly for the contact and partly so you can offer a little support. He’s able to walk—just not really in a straight line. “Come on. We’ll get inside, get you something to eat. Is Vee really okay?”

“We both will be.” His fingers tighten on your shoulder. “And the baby? You?”

“Baby’s fine, I think. No cramps or anything.” You do have a heaviness in your bladder that means you should visit a bathroom soon, but you decide not to mention that. “And they didn’t get near me. Um—we’ll need to replace Dan’s kettle, though. I may have used it as a weapon.”

He laughs. “I love you.”

You help Eddie up the stairs and onto the couch. His face is rough with exhaustion and worry, and you kiss his forehead before going back to the door and pulling it shut. It won’t lock, not until it gets fixed, but you edge a chair beneath the doorknob. That’ll keep any intruders from simply walking in. Then you go to the kitchen, stepping carefully around the broken glass.

When you return to the living room, you have a bag of beef jerky, bar of chocolate, and bottle of water. You drop them beside Eddie on your way to the bathroom. Once you’ve peed, you find the hospital gown in the dirty laundry hamper. Carefully, your fingers skim the hem, trying to find—

“Thank god,” you murmur. You were half afraid that the tracking device would be beneath your skin—and wouldn’t that be a fun scavenger hunt.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie’s voice comes from the living room, and you hurry back, the gown still in your hands.

“Found it,” you say, holding up the garment. “There’s something in here…” You tear the seam, and out falls a small electronic device. “They used this to track me.”

A shadow passes over Eddie’s face—and you can’t tell if it’s Venom or simply his own anger. He takes the tracker, and with a squeeze and a spark, crushes it between thumb and forefinger. “They’re not finding you again.”

You sit beside him, pulling a blanket across both of you. “We’re going to be okay.”

He reaches for you and you go willingly, until you’re gently resting across his chest. His heartbeat sounds a little too quick against your ear. “I don’t know why you aren’t the panicked one,” he murmurs. “Vee’s been screaming in my ear for the last ten minutes.”

“We have not.” Eddie’s mouth moves, but it’s Vee who speaks. “We’re just… expressing opinions.”

“On?” you ask, smiling.

“A new nest,” says Venom. “Preferably one high up, where we can defend it.”

You imagine Vee trying to build a home on top of the Salesforce Tower and have to suppress a smile. “You’re not going to barricade me away.” Your fingers stroke Eddie’s chest. “I fought them off this time. Felt kind of good.” Not the fighting itself—but knowing that you managed to hold your own, even for a little while, makes you feel a little bit better about the situation. “We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, both of you—rest.”

You make as if to sit up, but Eddie’s arms tighten around you.

“Stay,” one of them says, and you can’t tell if it’s Eddie or Venom. Probably both.

You relax against them. There’ll be things to do soon, but for now, you can indulge a little. Eddie’s thumb rubs circles against your belly, and you can feel Vee settling around you both, a protective barrier between you and the world. “I don’t care if the entire world tries to take me away from you,” you say quietly. “I’m not leaving either of you. You’re my family.”

For a few moments, there’s only quiet. You could fall asleep like this—and you probably will, in a few moments. It’s all very soothing: the warmth of Eddie, the lull of the waves, and Vee’s careful weight.

Just as you’re drifting off, you feel Eddie’s fingers touch your left hand—your ring finger, to be precise. “Marry us?” he says, so quietly that for a moment you’re not sure you heard him right.

You smile. “You know I will.”


End file.
